Garnet's Ledger.

[Garnet]

Entry #1:

A leather bound journal. Filled halfway with notes. Sums of lumber harvests. Locations of the rare woods with many of the coordinates crossed out. Last known prices in the larger towns of Britannia. Bank tallies. Locations of land for sale, many crossed out.

"Trinsic location is out. Can't sell the lumber for enough to get by. There's literally a swamp outside of town. The agent tried to sell me a parcel of swamp, in fact. Yes, good lumber can be found. If you don't mind losing a pack animal to an alligator or a bog thing. Will keep looking."

[Garnet]

Entry #2:

"I have made my way North to the city of Britain. The land sells at a premium here. Tradesmen abound but so far I have only found one carpenter and one fletcher. Perhaps there are more west of the river.

The inns were full in the Western end of town. I made my way across the north bridge and found suitable lodgings in an inn across from a tavern called the Salty Dog. Perhaps they serve a passable ale and a bit to eat.

The salty dog is a lively place to be. Heard much of interest. Britain itself is much too crowded. The merchants have their supply lines firmly in hand. Nothing for me here."

[Garnet]

Entry #3:

A month since the last entry. More notations of lumber locations.

(Below, so sloppy it's hard to read)

A shop name: The Healer of Vesper. A money amount next to it.

"Note to self : the orcs are NOT friendly. They do not care to buy lumber.
The healers said I'm lucky to still have use of my arm. The scar may fade in time. Maybe not. The pack mules didn't make it and my supplies are gone. Not that I can use an axe at this point anyway. The healer has allowed me to stay there through the winter, despite my lack of funds at the moment. I need to send word to the Yew bank for a withdrawal. It's a very good thing I've saved for so long."

[Garnet]

Entry #4:

The writing is slightly more legible in this entry)

It's been a month since I rolled into town in the back of a cart from Cove. It seems everybody could have told me the orcs would see me traipsing into their territory as a very different opportunity than a chance for trade.

The shoulder heals slowly. I am scolded daily that my constant fidgeting and pushing myself too hard are only setting it back. I have spent the last four years running about the lands on my own. This forced inactivity is going to be the death of me. The money arrived from Yew and I was finally able to pay for my extended stay.

Winter being upon us means more people in the music hall and the local art center. I quickly found that tho I can write, slowly, I cannot hold a paint brush aloft long enough to do more than a few strokes of color. Mostly, I sit and watch the others. The music hall is quite lively. I met an old acquaintance of mine from my childhood days in Minoc. I wonder if he recognizes me, what with the red hair and quite some time since we were children. I gave him the name I've used for the last few years. Not a whisper of doubt. Says he's here on business from Cove for a month. Likely I will see more of him.

[Garnet]

Entry #5:

(the writing is clear and only a little wobbly in places)

Spring in close. I can feel it humming through my bones. The trees are waking from their winter slumber.

My friend has gone back home to Cove, his business trip lasting longer than he first thought. The healer declares I am not quite well enough to "prance about on my own, just yet". Yes, I used to prance all the time. *rude drawing in the margin* More exercise to strengthen my arm....and more firewood for the healer. That is fine. I have been living here for 3 months. I paid my fare, but I feel better giving something more tangible than just gold pieces. Especially as he taught me quite a bit of the healing craft and anatomy while I've been here. "You cannot put it back together if you don't know what it is." He told me when I questioned the anatomy lessons. He seems to think I'm likely to get in quite a bit more trouble if I continue on as I have. I agree.

[Garnet]

Entry #6:

"My head is still pounding as I write this. I almost wish I had written last night, but I'm not sure I would have liked what drunk me had to say.

I made a short trip to Cove to visit my friend before I ventured to other parts of the world. It seems I am known there as "the idiot girl with the orc problem". Lovely. I asked around for my friend. Not only had no one seen him, no one knew who he was. No one by that description or name had ever resided in Cove. I was, hurt, I suppose, if I'm going to judge by my living in the bottle for a few days. He lied. I am angry, but I'm not sure I should be or have any right to be. I did not give him my old name. Did not tell him I knew him already. It is a difficult to wipe out the old life. If we are the sum of our experiences, I do not know who I am yet.

Someone is knocking on my door. I shall brace myself for another lecture...

[Garnet]

Entry 7:

(Strong, bold handwriting)

I journeyed North to my hometown of Minoc. The town looks the same, but the faces do not. The trade boom in the spring has filled all of the rooms for rent in town, but I managed to find one just outside. An eccentric elven mage is letting me rent a room in her old stone manor. Firebug is the name she gave me. Perhaps an odd name, but who am I to judge? She's in her study, writing out magical scrolls or riding her nightmare. No, not a horrible one-night stand.. a fiery beast in the shape of a horse. She named it InkBlot. I can add nothing to this..

Lady Firebug employs a pink haired young lass to do the cooking and cleaning. She also brews potions to use in her kitchen garden and ones that will cure a head cold in a sip. She will only give her name as Moonshine. Apt, I suppose. Every few weeks a tailor from Britain arrives with wondrously colored fabrics for the lady to choose from. Many long hours have been spent by the 4 of us, in front of the fire. Watching Feather sew many accoutrements for the lady of the house. Sipping Miss Moonshine's teas and being regaled with tales of Lady Firebug's adventures.

They ask few questions of me and do not press if I do no wish to answer. Seems like a good place to stay a while.

[Garnet]

Entry 8:

The year is wearing on and I'm getting restless. The Lady, sensing this I think, helped me gather everything I would need for a long trek. She haggled with a rancher for three pack llamas. I have not been around llamas much. The Lady says they like me as they do not spit at me and sometimes actually go where I lead them without a tugging match. I'm not sure why she decided on llamas instead of horses..

The lady decided I also needed a mount. She tamed a stately palomino she had spotted on her last trip to Papua for me. Her coat seems to shine in the sunlight, just like a handful of citrines. I shall name her such.

I have set my course for Yew and will taking the northern route around the mountains. I will miss my friends, but this is not where I'm meant to be. Where am I meant to be?

[Garnet]

Entry 9:

Yew is just weird.

*a drawing of a large Yew tree in the margin*

[Garnet]

Entry 10:

Yew is a very spread out town. There are HUGE trees (aptly named Yew) there. Perhaps the town is named after the tree? Several people would have to link hands to reach around the trunk. With the woods all around, there are many wood crafters. But, with the woods all around, they have no need of my skills with an axe.

I'm still feeling uneasy, however. I could swear the merchant I ran across at a shrine in the woods followed me here. I traveled light this time and managed to keep the llamas on track. They are strange beasts. They fuss at me constantly, but stomped a wild cat to death in the middle of the night when it tried to sneak into my camp.

I restocked my supplies and continue South in the morning.

[Garnet]

Entry 11:

(Two water damaged ledgers lay beside the first one in the footlocker. Torn, crumpled and completely illegible. A fourth ledger, a fine leather bound journal with delicate scrollwork in the shape of a tree on the cover. This, can be read.)

I lost one of my ledgers to the sea off the coast of Serpent's hold when the landing boats overturned in the hard surf. Idiot captain couldn't be bothered to wait for an opening at the docs to unload cargo. I had hoped the other two, once properly dried, would be salvageable. They are illegible, so I will recap a few key points here.

Four years ago, yesterday in fact, some nameless person dragged me out of the forest near Cove and delivered me to the Vesper healer, close to death. I never did find out who it was. Perhaps I'll never know.
I had made my way to Yew in the spring after, only to find my bank account emptied and closed. I made inquiries with the manager, making the usual noises about being a family member gifting money. The manager assured me it was relatives of, the now deceased, Emeria, gathering their daughter's belongings, that had closed the account. Inquiries had been sent and answered. Shit. I had always meant to start a different account elsewhere with my new name. Too late then.
Oh, I could have proven who I was...but wouldn't that just send up a beacon to anyone looking. I didn't know if anyone was looking. I didn't know how many people knew it wasn't really me buried in that graveyard. If certain people Did know and I revealed myself. Well, it wouldn't be very long before they weren't inconvenienced anymore and I lay in some unmarked paupers grave on the side of a road.
Or, dragged back to that gilded cage? Until I died in some horrible "tragic" accident. All my savings gone. I did the only thing I knew how to do. Disappear.

[Garnet]

Entry 12:

(Scribbles on the price of a few plots of land around Skara Brae)

Now, where was I. Ah yes.

I traveled to lands beyond Britain this time. The Lost Lands were lovely. Delucia especially. Paupua was fine, if you like mosquitoes. Ilshenar. The gypsy camps were a lot of fun. The golden skinned varieties of the usual monsters, not so much. There is a little pond with pixies flitting about. If you don't mind getting your nose tweaked now and again, it's a lovely place to relax. Citrine seems to enjoy their attentions. Malas, where I was taught rudimentary Paladin practices in the city of Luna. Tokuno islands. The creatures there strange and beautiful as they were deadly. Some wolf creature severely injured one of the llamas on the last trip through. I decided it was best not to foray too far off the beaten paths there. Much time was spent in Zento, gawking at the architecture. To Ter Mur and the royal city. The gargoyles and their fabulous wings. Nothing like their gibbering violent counterparts in Britain. One of them tried to teach me some imbuing with comedic results. He reasoned if I could learn the Paladin's whimsy pimsy chants to effect, I should be able to learn imbuing. This was not so. I managed to warp a table and affix it to the floor. It only took one good look at one of the raptors that frequent this land to convince me to return to Britannia. I would not risk a llama against one of those.

Fall was approaching here. My favorite season. I returned to Minoc through the moon gate and spent a few months camping in the woods. I never paid for room and board if the weather was good. I had no real plan. Just a vague longing for familiar lands.

[Garnet]

Entry 13:

(coordinates, several listed with prices. One circled. "Almost" written next to it.)

*flowery script* Dear Diary. *a rude drawing*

*Normal bold handwriting* Let's see. Forests of Minoc. Camping. Home. Ah yes.

I wish I could remember more of the night I must have surfaced in Skara Brae. Maybe I wouldn't want to know if I could remember. I do remember that I had decided to stop in Vesper after several months in the woods outside Minoc. I wanted to visit with the old healer that had been responsible for putting me back together several times in my life. I stopped at his home, empty. So I stopped at the Vesper Healer to see him at work. The look on the apprentice's face, I will not forget. Apprentice, no longer. The old healer had died during the last winter, he told me. Peaceful, in his sleep. At the hale age of 91.

Devastated, I suppose, would be an understatement. He was the only person to know me for me. Who I was, where I had been, who I was now. He never judged. Never told a soul what he knew of me. Never tossed me aside. Simply bandaged me up, scolded me to be more careful, and sent me on my way. He was a friend. A true friend. And now? He was just gone. And where had I been? *a smudge on the paper* This is the other reason people gather when someone passes. The darkness yawns open at our feet. Our hearts flutter with fear. We cling to the light of other souls around us. .. but I was alone. No light in the darkness to guide me. Not anymore.

I stayed in my "old room" at the Inn for a few days. To rest and pay my respects at his grave. And grieve.

By the time I left, I was a day behind on a delivery to Britain. The weather had turned foul. High winds, rain that poured almost sideways. Lightning so bright it blinded and thunder so loud it shook the very ground. .. and three llamas that were less thrilled than I was at being out in the weather.

[Garnet]

A new journal bound in plain, dark green leather. The writing is awkward, slanted in different angles. A clear struggle to form the letters. Blotches of ink and small tears in the paper where too much pressure was used.





Ten days since the tower. 



The night before the tower. It was relatively quiet for tavern at the Cabin. I remember settling against a cabinet, watching the room. The concern, determination and fear and grief that flitted over everyone's expressions as they spoke strategy. I focused on the bar in front of me, trying to blank out some of the fear in the air. I felt eyes on me, but couldn't look up. I should have. Then the ground rocked under the Cabin. An explosion. Aila had been snatched right out of Stormguard. Past the wards and the thick stone walls. This set the tone for the coming day.



The explosion in Stormguard. Aila's escape. The now certainty we would have to face, not just Shaste, intimidating in his own right, but Anya, Eban and Aila as well. Exceptions were to be made with the possibility of saving Anya and Aila.. but Eban? No, they wanted him dead, fully dead, as well. I saw what they did to Sasha when she spoke against it. I would not be locked away while the others fought for their lives. It was so very simple to me. Focus on Shaste. Kill Shaste, or put him into a position to be killed by one of the others. If Eban had gotten in my way, there would be no help for it. He was not his own. I would do what I had to do to survive. To get to Shaste. But I would not unnecessarily condemn one of the necromancer's puppets to death. What I spoke was not a lie. He was given every chance. He had done many horrible things in his past and was responsible for many horrible things recently. But it was not the full scope of my feelings on the subject.



In the end, it hadn't mattered what my views were.



After the quick and fruitless search for Aila, we parted ways. I went back to the Cabin. Worked my way through a bottle of whiskey while putting out the fires in the hearths. Who knew if I would return after the tower? Should I write something? Leave some final message for my friends. What could I say that I had not already said to them, though? I've been honest and open as I could with those closest to me. I've kept few things to myself. Things that would do no one any good to hear. Not then, and not if I didn't make it back.

Alex, I had written to constantly. He was rarely at the Cabin. Choosing to chase down any little information he can on the legacy of his family in the slaving business. Hoping to find some little clue as to why he was attacked. By whom. I went with him in the beginning. But there's only so much responsibility I could put off while we chased what seemed to be ghosts. We have our suspicions. Well, I had my suspicions. I'm no longer sure what Alex thinks, but I know the truth of it now. Xuri told me. I should have known, really. Considering who the first person to die like that had been. And the similarity with the attack on Alex.

I hadn't even been sure Alex would be back in time for the tower. I took the bottle of whiskey with me to the Shrine of Spirituality. Sat on the dais above the pond, staring into the night sky. Tserim had always said I should visit the shrine more often. He was right. The stars shined down. The moons hung serenely up high. It was a good life here. I had few regrets in settling here. Only one on joining the rangers. This was home. If dying in the attempt to end Shaste was in my cards, it would be a good death. Not painless, for death never is. But a worthy way to go out. Sword in hand. Yes. I was terrified. I had fought so hard just to survive.. my instincts howled at me to run again. This was home though. I would not run.

The first hints of the sun were on the horizon when I had made it back to the Cabin. Alex was there waiting. Not thrilled I was so drunk I could barely walk. Apparently, exercise and drinking do not mix. I know we argued, but I can not remember exactly what about. Probably over the length of his absence this time, among other things. Worry and fear do not good bedfellows make.

He left to 'give me space'. Before I could even tell him about what had happened in the last week. Before I could tell him about the attack on the tower. I sent letters to his usual spots. Telling him of the attack. To meet us if he could. And if he couldn't, it wasn't his fault, but mine.

It's been 10 days since the tower. 10 days since many last things. I have not seen Alex. Have not heard from him. I had worried he wouldn't be able to find me in Emerald Town. Then, would he think to check the lodge? Not that that worry made any sense. Doc and Aimee took what messages they could. So did the rangers. No one has seen him. The letters remain, unopened, at their delivery spots. Even official summons from Riverwatch have not brought him to the glade. I'm unsure if they've even reached him. Surely word has spread enough for him to have heard of the tower attack. To have heard of Okami, Ranthir and Eban's deaths. Doc has checked the cabin every day for me. It still stands. Undisturbed except for him. Even Xuri has yet to locate Alex. She would have brought him to me if she had. Yes, even if he did not wish it. It was difficult for me to move about at that point, but I had just wanted to be sure he was alive and unharmed. Surely he could tell me if he meant to not come back. Perhaps he had said so during our argument. If so, I cannot remember it. I'm worried, but there's nothing more I can truly do. If, he had pushed too far, Xuri would tell me. She would inform me herself of his fate. There is that much of her left. I miss him. But I've missed him much this last month.

As for my arm. I go under the knife tonight. Healing magic will not stretch the cut muscles back into place and make them whole again on it's own. I suspect the healing was at odds with the effects of the necromancer's spell that first night, as well. The surgery had to wait to be done when I was strong enough for it. But not so far past when the damage was done that the muscles would have atrophied. Too long to be able to be stretched back into place. I'll have to speak to Sasha. She did offer her magic to work on my arm. Perhaps it will take with the muscles stitched together. The focus would be in regrowth, instead of mostly holding and some regrowth. This may work. This may not. Either way. I will not be any worse off than I am right now. In fact, if it doesn't work, maybe Doc could just remove it completely and get me one of those arms Mason has. Hm. Perhaps not. The little alchemist seems entirely too excited about that prospect.


As for the Garden and what happened afterward, I need to gather my thoughts.

[Garnet]

*faintly printed, ill-formed, oddly slanted letters. More easily read if the text is tilted and squinted at*



I'd kill Aedon myself if I could. I'll have to settle on hiring someone to slap the man silly.

Aly has since apologized for letting it be served. Didn't know what was in it. Thought it was the whiskey he owed her. Honestly, sending a keg of that over for us to drink at Aly's gathering Thursday. Perhaps he thought it would liven things up for us. Perhaps it would have, had the two of us that drank any of it been in a position to enjoy it. It was a mercy most of the effects didn't kick in until several hours later, after we had all gone home. 

As it was, I had to lock down the Cabin. Deny all visitors. I dug obsessively in the flower beds on the roof. Amending the soil and making sure everything was just right for the seedlings I planted. I dug through my wardrobe. Rearranged furniture. Organized everything I could get my hand on inside the Cabin. It hadn't helped. It just reminded me of how very alone I was. As if I needed yet another reminder. When I was finally able to relax late Friday evening, I made my way to Riverwatch. I had meant to look into the library there during my stay, but never took the opportunity. I fell asleep next to a pile of books and reports.

Eighteen days since the tower. One day, I'll be able to think in terms other than 'since the tower'. For now, it still looms in all of our psyches.

Still no word from Alex. I visited two of our letter drops. The letters are still there, seals unbroken, but clearly handled by someone. Did he see them and put them back? I set another letter in both locations. Pleas for a response of any kind. Even if it was just a confirmation we had ended things in our argument the night before the tower. At least I would know for sure. This limbo is difficult. Xuri assures me that he'd not end things. But she cannot tell me what we argued on. For once, she was not 'keeping an eye on things' that evening. She had other things to be rightfully worried about. She's counseled me on matters of the heart before, though.  Maybe things would make more sense if I could sleep.

Always at night now. Always when the world is quiet and my mind turns inward. The bubbles burst.. layering the air with battle calls and the fiery clash of spells. I still see him, stalking towards me with that fucking whip of his and his favorite dirk. That look in his eyes that means pain for me. Unendurable fear and flashes of fury flicker about me, urging me to run, to hide..  or to take up my sword and cut him down again and again. They are mine, those feelings. But magnified beyond anything I have ever felt in my life. I couldn't control the urges at first. Bruised and bloodied myself several times trying to get away before the images broke and were absorbed by the flower bud. Now, I wait them out. Watching him stalk towards me, only to break on that flower in the vase at the foot of my bed. The stem has grown long. The flower in full bloom. I lock it away during the daytime. I don't know what would happen if another touched it. I don't know what will happen when whatever it's feeding on in those bubbles is gone. The flower should have been long dead. If touched on with necromancy like I suspect.. it would make sense, it's continued existence. I've heard talk of the afflicted at the tower bearing a 'stain' of sorts from the spell worked on us. Of the necromancy that made us turn on our friends. Perhaps this is what is being drawn out of me. In that mental image of bubbles racing towards the surface. I had meant to talk to Ezekial about it. Perhaps he would have some insights. Or Kalanna. I had other questions for her as well. Ezekial has other demands on his time, however, that I would be loathe to distract him from and I have not seen Kalanna in some time.  Adegas might well try to destroy me before I had even fully explained my plight. I never know with that one. Perhaps Faeryl or Sasha?.. or.. yes, she may help. I don't know why I didn't think of her before.

There is another death to mourn. Eldaern. I was fond of him. Always with the jokes and the innuendo so thick, you could spackle a house with it. He took a job. He knew the risks. I can make no comment on the rest of that yet, as I'm still not understanding some things. What I do know is, another friend is dead. How deep does the blood need to be before it is enough?